Slippers
by snowish
Summary: A retelling of Cinderella featuring a practical heroine, a prince, a happy girl who got in a bad situation, and pies. Lots of pies.
1. Just the Kitchen

Slippers - A Retelling of Cinderella

Hello all! I'm back. I've had plot bunnies running everywhere, but none seem to be quite ri ght. But this one just came to me, and it begged to be written. Here goes nothing...

Disclaimer: I don't own the original idea for Cinderella.

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"You," I said quietly, peeking up to see his reaction, "were a mistake. One I regret. Simple words I'd said, all in one gush of breath. I picked up my basket and said, "Now can we please go back to our lives?" I stood up completely. "I have some things to take care of." The wood basket rubbed my hands- it was either that or the feeling that I was making the biggest mistake of my life.

I left him where I should have all along- behind me, en route to the river, where some berries grew. I had some thoughts in my head that needed to clear, and that certainly wouldn't happen here. The start of it, I remembered, was about two months ago . . .

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Chapter One - Expectations

"Leila?"

I had been hearing Emi call my name for the last little while. I didn't want to go help serve breakfast to the pigs-not literally, fortunately. I'd never seen them, and this castle was where I'd lived for the past six years! Brushing my tangles of hair out of my face and into an emerald ribbon that was knotted twice tightly, I made a step toward the door. I stepped out and said, "I'm right here, Emi." She got so excited about things like this, because she was one of the servants selected to serve the actual royalty. They (The Official Servant Selection Committee, I presumed) picked the "pretty" ones to do that, a small slap in the face to me. However, I have been on kitchen duty since I came here and bake pies and cakes the likes f which the former pastry chef shed tears for. Aptly named Cookie, she's now the other head cook. I doubt they;d want ti take me out of the kitchen.

Walking down the dim hall, lit only by small lanterns and with no windows in this stretch, I could see why they'd picked Emi. She was lively and kind of sparkly. Even her walk was a half-skip. I couldn't help but smile at how enthused she was, and I realized I really do like my job. I just don't show it as openly as Emi does (but then, who could?).

Emi looked back to me, her soft brown eyes sparkling. "I love this time in the morning. The world is coming alive. Can't you feel it?" She smiled more when we came to the morning light pouring through the first window, the yellowed striped almost blinding.

If anyone were fit to be a storybook princess, it would be Emi.

I rubbed my necklace's charm like it was a genie's lamp, for what reasons I didn't know, though I decided a few wishes wouldn't hurt: I would wish for peace and to be happy. What of the third? I didn't know. I rubbed the charm harder.

We were almost at the kitchens now. Emi picked up a ilver tray and polished it to a shine. I turned back and gave her arm a quick squeeze. "You'll win him over for sure today." The smile she beamed could melt the iciest of hearts, and with a swish of her straight, sleek black hair, she was off.

Truthfully, I was doubting that prince would find anyone, hard-headed as I'd heard he was. A little white lie never hurt anyone too terribly though, did it? I shook my head to myself, swinging open the doors to my second home-the kitchen. A small commotion was taking place by one of the fires, but that was all I could make out before it was all blocked out.

"Well, here now, Leila decided to show! Go make some o' that pie of yours with the berried Lester picked." That was my usual greeting from Cookie. We shared an almost sisterly bond, though we could never be mistaken as them biologically-her skin was many shades darker than my own pale complexion.

"What sort of berry is it?" I asked, pulling out my pie crust and rolling it. I looked up and Cookie was gone. Typical. Back to rolling, I thought. I love my little corner in the kitchen-it's just out of the main stretch and I have easy access to the pantry, which is far larger than it sounds.

Stuffing the berries into my hands from one bowl to another, my thoughts drifted back to Emi. She could get anyone if she could-someone tolerant of how sunny her disposition was-rainbows should beam off of her in the rain. Emi was short for Emeraude, so she'd told me, a princess' name. Too much for a servant.

I covered the crust with another layer, making sure it was smooth, and stuck it over the open fire.

Cookie's hands flew to her hips as she approached me. "Lester is just this thing! HE brought me a honeysuckle he found near the berries as well."

I turned and grinned. "I think I can feel the courtship beginning."

Lester-a general kitchen servant- and Cookie have the cutest form of a romannitic situation that I'd seen-shy glances across the teakettle, strolls in the herb garden, small tokens.

Maybe someday I'd have something like that, I mused. Just someone who'd bring a honeysuckle vine and weave it into a bracelet, just for me.

Cookie's round cheeks were flushed from more than the close range of the fire. I smiled again, and took the pie off (I'd wanted it warmed-not how, certainly not burnt.) And shoved it onto a platter with a doily and fresh-cut daisies.

Right about then, a pink-cheeked Emi came bursting in, looking like she had some news. I turned to her.

"Well?" She smile, took my hands, and cried out loud enough for the entire city to hear a simple sentence.

"The prince is having a ball!"

She started to jump up and down, and having no choice, I began to bounce with her, secretly wondering why she was so happy. Wouldn't we be catering? Seeing her glowing features, I figured they'd have to make an exception.

Besides, what wouldn't that prince like about Emi? She was perfect.

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Whoo new series! Review and make the authoress happy.


	2. More than Baked Goods

1Slippers

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own any sort of fairy tale, or at least not the one this one's revolving around, Cinderella.

Chapter Two-More than Baked Goods

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"The prince is havin' a ball? Well, heaven alive that'll mean a lot of cooking!" Cookie clapped her hands. If Cookie and Lester don't work out, then Cookie and the kitchen certainly have had a history and a definite future together.

As usual, I took it upon myself to be the sensible one. "I doubt the prince himself is having the ball. This sounds like a royal event. I bet his parents did it."

Emi looked at me for a small moment, and then jumped back up, saying, "Well, that still means I have the smallest chance to dance with him." I could practically see the stars forming in her eyes. Yes, there they were- Emi was off in, as we of the staff affectionately call it, Emiworld. I snapped two of my fingers in front of her face, and she came back.

"Sorry."

Cookie let out a small squeal with her and said, "Wait til Lester hears this-he'll have a flip!" Yes, Lester would have a flip. Lester loves gossip, despite being the male version of Emi, only with male things. It's almost funny how similar the two can be at times. I have seen the two exchanging stories about the "family" and giggling, though Lester won't admit that he giggles. He does.

I went back to my station, and turned back to Emi with a bowl of cake mix busying my hands. "He'll love you, if there's a ball. How could anyone not?" _Despite the fact that I've never met him and don't know his personality. I don't even know what he looks like. It's almost sad. _

Cookie poured some of the leftover mix into another bowl and added some more ingredients, agreeing. "Emi, hun, you are brighter than the sun itself. He'd be crazy...!" She mumbled some more to herself.

I heard Lester come in and settle himself beside Cookie, who slapped his fingers with the wet spoon when he was about to get a cookie. "None o' that! Just like a child sometimes, and..." There was that mumbling again. Cookie never said much about where she was from, but what she did say was that she was never educated in anything but "how to make a darn-good pastry and a sam'mich with it." Her accent was somewhat varied-sometimes she sounded tropical, other times it's southern. She was definitely uniquely Cookie.

Emi came over beside me and said, "Let me help. All I have next is..." She leaned over to check the sheet next to the pantry door that displayed what all the servants did and when. "...I get to go clean off some guest bedrooms at two. Apparently the palatial family is having some extra guests." Everytime she moved, it was like the sun gleamed down on her and made her eyes sparkle and her hair shine. It made the rest of us look lackluster, I thought, looking down at my curly brown hair. At least my eyes were a bright shining blue, when they wanted to be. Sometimes they were stormy. Being in the kitchen so often had rubbed off on my complexion as well; I was pale as snow, but always slightly covered in ashes- that was why I wore the scarf over my hair. I was proud of my looks, no matter how much I wish I didn't care. Servants weren't supposed to care. Emi didn't have to. She just looked like that all the time. Some people got all the luck.. .

I wasn't jealous of her, though it seems like it. For one thing, she entered Emiworld at random times (such as the time she dropped my fresh-off-the-fire pie on the floor). Then there's that happy disposition thing. I didn't know if everyone could handle that much sun, all the time-if you get too much, you get burned. Emi wasn't like that though. Although I had seen her on bad days, and though few and far-between, they were bad.

There was the time that one of the kitchen servants had asked her why she was so smile-y all the time. She gave the guy who asked a look that could rival the deadly accuracy of a bullet to the heart and he was never heard from again. She's just happy. Don't ask why. There's more behind it than she'd say, but I had the feeling that one day the dam she'd built would break, and the truth would come pouring out like a rush of water. Would we be in over our heads? It was best, for right then, to just keep Emi nice and ask no questions. I'd hate to meet the girl who would beat Emi to the prince's heart, for she would not last long with a bloodthirsty happy girl on the warpath. What girl could?

The only way to keep Emi happy was for Emi to have her way. Sometimes I wondered what had brought Emi to this childish behavior of hers. What did her past hold? I brought the cake to another person to bake, as I had many more to make-new guests like desserts. If there has been one thing I've learned these six years, it's that nobody is unhappy when they have a fork-ful of cake shoved in their mouth. Nobody.

"Cookie, dear!" That was Ellen. She was the head supervisor for all the servants, and, well, she knew it. Tall and slim and refined were words that summed up how she looked physically. Mentally-evil. Just...not nice. "Cookie. I'm seeing that not all of the plates are as clean as they could be. Could you please handle that and make the non-clean not non-clean?"

Cookie stood there for a moment thinking over the last part of the last sentence. Then she said, "Yes, of course, Ellen." I could sense the rolling her eyes wanted to do so badly. Call it a sixth sense of mine. Cookie and I are very fine-tuned to how the other is feeling. We have had a late-night kitchen feast before, just the two of us. It was one of the best and happiest memories I have.

As soon as Ellen left, Cookie started to grumble again. "Sometimes, "non-clean not non-clean," meh..." She began to ramble under her breath, and took a spoon and began to viciously stir a batch of cookie mix. I grabbed the spoon from her gently and said, "I think Ellen might mean well underneath all that venom." This really wasn't a very bad request either. One time Ellen had put me on the floors and made me scrub every spot off the kitchen floors because word was the king was coming to check on how the servant floors were holding up. Cookie smiled and grabbed the spoon back while I was distracted.

I went back to where Emi was putting a lattice-weave on a pie for me. I smiled and said, "You're getting better at that, you know."

There were those rainbows again. Someday I decided that I was going to hang a crystal off of her and see if it reflected more, then she'd have them tenfold. Nobody else had that special quality-being able to shine. It would get her far. The only thing I have are pies, I thought, looking around the kitchen. Lots of pies. With a critical eye to making sure I didn't squish a cherry, I thought that seemed very wrong.

There should be more to life than pies. The soft spot in me was crying out for something more, something meaningful. Surely I wouldn't find it there. I couldn't spend my life hiding out in my comfort zone, counting out measuring spoons and scrubbing floors with brushes much too small for the job. Someday I would find it. I didn't think it would be right then, though, with my mouth full of apple pie and Emi stealing a bite under my own fork.

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Small cliffie! Review if you like! I don't want to fish for them.


	3. An Announcement and Cake

ACK. Left this one hanging for a while, but have swooped back in for the finish.

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Emi very nearly dropped her fork. Mine paused in my mouth, before I took my bite slowly and chewed for a long moment.

A small group of people came in through the swinging kitchen doors, and I knew immediately that they were somebody important – the way everyone stopped what they were doing, as if on cue. Cookie was now by the sink, but she'd paused in her diligent scrubbing, and I heard the small clink of her carefully placing a plate down. My eyebrows furrowed a bit as I turned back to Emi – her eyes were as big as saucers.

"Are these...?"

Her wordless nod was enough confirmation for me to turn my attention back to the royalty that stood in front of me, separated by a partial lattice wall and a thick table – a good vantage point.

This little man scurrying around in front of them must be some advisor to them – I could tell from the way he looked harried, but still as though he belonged. The woman – that must be the queen. I let out a small breath. Her blonde hair, silvered with age and in a tight chignon on her neck, shone in the light, and her small hands were placed in front of her. She looked kind, if a bit stiff. Was the queen nervous? We were just her own people, attending to her needs. Surely she could not be. And the one right beside her that I'd forced myself to look past...that was the prince.

He really was quite magnificent to look at, I had to admit. His coppery-brown hair must have been from his father, and though I couldn't see his eyes clearly, I could see that they were almond-shaped and dark. A light smattering of freckles coated his straight nose, and his thin face was all-over pleasing to the eye. He was quite tall and gangly, and, I noted, would match well with Emi.

She was too distracted by the prince herself to notice my outright ogling. Her brown eyes sparkled as she let out a soft sigh, her perfect cupid's-bow, pink lips smiling as she looked at the prince. I turned back to him as well, willing his eyes to wander over here. I'd never been one for matchmaking, but this opportunity was simply too good to pass up. If Emi could go to that ball, as well, surely she'd capture his heart.

The advisor (I could only assume) cleared his throat. "Would all the young ladies in the room please step forward?"

Emi rushed out, as I followed a bit unwillingly. I forgot my discomfort when I saw Ellen trying to join the girls who were coming out. Many had a similar reaction to Emi, though some looked uncomfortable. I rested an arm on the table I happened to be beside, and watched the advisor calmly, really watching Emi out of the corner of my eye. She was shaking a bit, and her smile widened, as though she already knew what this was all about. Had this anything to do with that ball that was mentioned earlier? I could only wonder. The advisor turned his head slowly, looking at each of us carefully. When he seemed appeased, he spoke again.

"As some of you may know, it has been formally announced that young Prince Tusken is having a ball, two weeks from this date. This invitation is extended not only to those with noble blood, but also to the many peasants girls of this city. As such, all of you are invited as well, so long you have an appropriate outfit for the ball. The prince," the advisor coughed meaningfully at him, "is in need of a bride, one which he is surely to find from either royalty or peasants alike."

All the girls, by now, either had expressions of extreme joy or nervousness. Good grief. Was I the only one in this bustling portion of the palace who did not truly wish to catch the prince's eye?

A small part of my mind corrected me. _You wish for his eye too. You are just being too stubborn to admit it._

Hush, I told it firmly. This was about Emi, not me. Emi, who might be scaring the royalty with the intensity of her bright, wide smile. I kept waiting for the heavens to pour through the closed ceiling and point down on her, with her clasped hands.

_And you're jealous of her as well, you know that? You're jealous because you fancy the prince for-_

Hush, I told it again. I'm planning.

The advisor finished his speech and I was itching to get onto a cake. I do my best thinking when I make cakes. Pies are easy pleasure, but cakes require skill and expertise in the minute decorations, just the same as a good, well-thought out plan. Meddling? Not so much as making moves for a girl who was, giving Emi another quick glance, far too gone in her own imagination to make something work in real life.

The prince gave Emi a quick glance as well, I was pleased to note. His gaze turned on me for a moment, and I met it, with a surprisingly shy smile in return, really more a softening of the grave expression my face tended to slip into when I was planning. I chastised myself mentally for that – I was not normally a particularly shy girl. Ah, but it was not myself that I should be thinking about with the prince.

His eyes were a pleasant brown, though. I thought of them, but instead of seeing them gazing into Emi's equally brown eyes, I kept seeing them trained on my own pair of blue. I tried to push the thought away as I realized that the kitchen girls, myself included, were now bowing before the queen and giving their names.

I pondered why our names would be of any importance.

Emi was in front of me, and she swept an elegant curtsy, looking up and saying, quietly, "Emeraude," before walking away. I was pleased that she's given them the elongated version. I slipped into her place swiftly, with a cursory (if a bit wobbly) bow.

"Leila," I said in a smooth voice, giving the prince another glance, before turning away.

His eyes had met mine again, briefly. I suppressed the pleasure that the simple gesture had given me. Had he not met all of the girls' eyes? Why would he choose me, anyway? The kitchen was my only home; the other cooks and servants, my family. Why would I even long for something other than that?

Why would my heart keep wanting to turn back around from the counter I had reached now? I disobeyed it, choosing, instead, to get a big red bowl and some flour – it was cake time.

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	4. A Turn of Events

Thank you beautiful reviewers! Thank you lovely reviewers! Erm, I could sing your praises, but I think you get the idea.

Straight on to the story, shall we?

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The next week or so passed in an indifferent blur of work and young maids around my age squealing about the ball – not the least of them Emi. I was amazed (and slightly scared) when one of the girls started sewing right there in the kitchen – her dress. It was a tangerine color, and one might have been ill-advised to wear such, but it was her dress, and therefore, in my opinion, not my duty to tell her how she would appear to be an oversized piece of fruit. Myself, I wasn't too sure that I would even attempt to sew a dress – my hands could make pastries of all varieties (quite well, I am told), but I could not sew a piece of cloth together to save my life. I chose to keep that rather sad fact to myself.

Another nearly unimportant fact that I chose to keep to myself was my strange attraction to that prince. It was merely a physical thing, I told myself, nothing to worry about. Every other girl here was affected by it as well. Yet I couldn't go around screaming about how positively gorgeous our children would be like everyone else. It just wasn't my nature to do so. I kept to myself for that week, hoping that the blush that would sometimes creep to my cheek would appear to be from standing so close to the fire. Unfortunately, I felt like the entire below-stairs staff could see it, and was always watching my features for so much as a confession that, underneath, I was just as far-gone as the rest.

As the week progressed, however, Emi became much quieter. She stopped talking with the other girls about the prince; something was wrong with that picture. I scoured out a pan in quiet frustration, using much more force than was necessary for such a menial task. Emi came and stood beside me, looking out of the tiny window above the washing area, which looked out to the stables.

The tiniest sigh escaped her lips, and I found myself looking up in surprise.

"Emi."

Her head jerked up. "What?"

"What's got you so quiet? The ball is but a week away. I figured you'd be out of your wits." I shrugged, mostly to myself. Her head shook slowly.

"Nothing's wrong."

"I didn't say anything was wrong," I replied suspiciously. "Has something occurred? You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. But I am curious, I must admit."

"I can't tell you," she said quietly. "I'm not to tell anyone." A small tear traced its way down her cheek as she spoke. Her dark hair draped over her face like a curtain, as her hand flew to wipe her eyes.

My intuition quirked at that. A small frown fell over my features and my forehead creased. "It's okay," I said after a moment. "I understand." A small lie, but one for the best – Emi was one of my closest friends, as dim as she may seem sometimes. Something must have been gravely wrong. I turned this over in my head, the way one's hands might toy with a small coin.

She sniffled in response. "It's nothing anyway," she said in a small voice. "Nothing of any importance." She gave a watery smile, but dropped it. "Everyone else is so excited about the ball."

"Aren't you? Isn't it your dream to be with the prince someday?" My head fell to one side slightly. As soon as it left my mouth, I regretted it – a few more tears slid down her face.

"Yes, yes, it is – I'm just not so sure of exactly what I want anymore. Some things change. I am still in love with the prince (her eyes shone slightly at that), but..." She trailed off, her eyes roaming. She said 'love,' which made me very nearly raise an eyebrow. Love. Emi was too young, too innocent, to know the true ways of love – as was I. Did anyone really know anything about love, though? Was it all so easy to just proclaim you love someone you've never really talked to?

I didn't believe in love at first sight. The idea was much too frivolous to actually exist. It was something made for a child's ears, really. Simple as that – 'as pie,' I added in my head.

"No, I'm sure everything will all work out in the end," I lied soothingly. Things just didn't work out as smoothly for people like us – those below-stairs, whose lives depended upon the people which we served. I knew that someday I wanted to get out of here, maybe open my own bakery somewhere else, but Emi so wanted to marry the prince. It was so obvious.

Emi was waking up. I pitied her so in that moment.

"The prince will not be able to resist you," I told her for the hundredth time.

It was strange, Emi's sudden sadness. Her moods would sometimes change, rapid-fire, but sadness appeared to be the most potent. It worried me, how she would look so tired sometimes. The ball couldn't have anything to do with this, could it?

In the meantime, Cookie was being the most helpful I'd ever seen her – and that was saying something. Cookie loved meddling. She'd tackled me one late night heading to my room, insisting that she would make my dress, and Emi's as well. I tried to refuse – I intended to just stay in the background and try to work magic with Emi and the prince. Cookie was adamant, though, and I gave in.

I had a ball, a prince looking for a bride, a dress, and I still wasn't entirely satisfied. This opportunity took second place next to my concern for Emi. When the happy person saddens, no other person knows quite how to make the sun shine again.

I tried, though, for Emi. I gave her a pie, and though she did nearly eat all of it by herself (she gave a small portion to Lester), her eyes still held something that I hadn't seen previously.

It frightened me.

I could only hope that the impending ball would somehow be able to fix it.

Three days from the ball, Emi did not show up in the kitchens at all. I told Cookie to fix the morning croissants for me as I whipped myself back to the servant's quarters, determined to figure out just what was wrong with her once and for all. She needed to be the Emi I knew for him.

When I reached her room, I threw open the door, to find Emi asleep on the floor, her long hair pasted to her wet brow, and one hand splayed almost protectively over her abdomen. I gasped. Her eyes opened at the sound.

"Leila," she said quietly. Her eyes gained some clarity. "Leila. Why are you here?" Her face looked so pale.

"I'm worried about you, and I think..." My hand absentmindedly curled and went to my chin, thinking. My eyes went wide. "Yes...you are showing some of the..."

"Leila?" She now looked a tad panicked.

"Emi," I asked in a hushed voice, " Emi, are you...?" I gestured to her stomach.

Her eyes filled with tears as she nodded very slowly.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered, just confirming it to me. I wordlessly gathered Emi into my arms. I said no more for that moment, just letting her cry into my shoulder. All my questions could be answered later.

It was then, however, that I noticed the bruise on her shoulder – large, purple, and fist-shaped.

My eyes went wide.

What had happened to Emi?

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Didn't see that coming, did you? All part of the plan. . .

I promise the storyline won't get all melancholy now. This one was just a necessary evil.

Will update soon.


	5. A Dream

Didn't see this one coming so fast, did you? I just couldn't leave the story hanging there for another day or so. It would kill me, I know, if I were waiting to see what happened after the whole Emi thing.

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I groaned slightly. "Cookie, can't I just put the dress on? Why are you making me wait? Emi already has her dress on, and she's the one that matters," I whined. She was the one due to win over the prince tonight. It took an insider to know that Emi was eating (pie) for two, but it was completely unnoticable tonight in her white dress. Cookie had really outdone herself. She used to be a nanny for two children and was always having mend their clothes, where she picked up quite a talent with a needle and thread.

Emi was beautiful – all the noble girls would be eating their hearts off of golden platters. The dress, embroidered with small floral designs and beads, made Emi glow with happiness, something that I was glad to see. The bruise was carefully covered by the narrowed sleeve that ended at her elbow. The back had bows trailing in a line all the way to the floor. I couldn't imagine how Cookie had done it.

"Please tell me you didn't put embroidered pies on it, Cookie..." I muttered into my hand. I was just very anxious for the night to begin, really. My impatience was just a minor, nasty side effect.

Cookie looked offended at my remark. "'n why would I be putting pies on it anyway?" She pulled the dress out from its previous position, hanging over a small divider she had placed in her room, for modesty. She held it out with a pleased expression. "No food anywhere on it, you can plainly see," she said.

My eyes widened as I took it, trying my hardest not to stroke the fabric. I really didn't care too much about fashion, but this was so pretty. I stroked it anyway, feeling the softness. I ran behind the divider and managed to slip into it. The dark blue looked good against my pale skin, showing off my eyes. It was plain, but pretty – something I had requested. The heart-shaped neckline ended in cream-colored lace that peeped up from below. The full skirt swished slightly with the minute step I took. The small puffed sleeves puffed farther as I raised my arms and twirled with a smile.

Cookie was the first to speak: "Leila-girl, you'll be the belle of the ball." I shook my head with a grin as I led Emi out the door.

I hadn't expected what I found at the ballroom – a room packed full of people.

We were late. Emi looked slightly crestfallen. "Go on in," I assured her. She walked down the stairs contentedly enough. Several courtier's heads turned when she entered. I smiled and began walking down the stairs myself, cursing the shoes Cookie insisted I wear – they were delicate things, just slippers, really, encrusted with a tiny flower. I picked up my skirts the tiniest amount to allow for the stairs – they were steep. I let a tiny amused smile stay on my face, to hide the odd mixed emotions I was feeling.

If several people turned to look at Emi, more had turned to look at me. That was something I just couldn't wrap my head around. I looked around the ballroom, pretending to be confident. My breath stuttered slightly, for the I met the prince's dark eyes in my visual journey though the crowded room. He was in the front with the king and queen, where all of the young ladies went to present themselves. I supposed I would have to do that as well. The prospect of standing there in such a gown as this without my feet beginning to find something to trip over was becoming more and more slim. I tended to be a bit clumsy when I was nervous.

I threw another mental curse at those slippers as I made my way to stand behind Emi in the receiving line. I saw her eyes dancing for the first time in what seemed an eternity. I felt hopeful. She sank into a low curtsy, saying her name smoothly, adding a "lady." I wondered if we were supposed to do that. I would as well, for good measure. Though "Lady Leila" sounded horrible together. The queen smiled at Emi – a good sign. Perhaps she could suggest the prince dance with her?

It was my turn.

"Lady Leila," I said with no hesitation (thankfully – I'd worried my voice would slip) as I slid low in a curtsy. I let my eyes look back up as I turned off to the right, to find the prince watching me with curious eyes, again. It was a little frustrating. Look at Emi, I commanded him with my eyes (yet my mouth slipped into a smile without my permission).

He smiled back, and I felt my insides do an odd twisting motion that made me worry more. I could think him handsome, yes, but I must do no more. I found Emi, her eyes now as worried as mine. Her mood swings were frequent and often, a bit violent.

"Leila," she said quietly. "There is something I have yet to tell you." Her hands twisted together.

"What is it?"

Her head, crowned with small blooms, fell forward. "It was a gentleman who did this to me," she said. 'I would hope so,' I replied in my head.

"What do you mean?"

"That one over there," she said through an unmoving mouth. I followed her gaze to see a young man – no doubt nobility – dancing with an equally young girl.

"Are you sure?" I was quite worried.

"Yes," she said, not looking at me, looking quite distant. All of a sudden, she nearly slumped against me.

"Let's go to the balcony," I told her. She needed air. A gentleman couldn't truly have done that to her, could he?

She seemed better once we were in the open air. Emi took deep breaths.

"You're alright now?" I asked after several moments. I heard the french door click closed behind us.

She smiled slightly. "Yes, I can't believe what came over me in there. It's just ridiculous, really..." She slumped over on the bench, having fainted quite suddenly.

"Oh, dear," I said under my breath, not sure of what to do. I couldn't move her – we were the same size. I would just have to sit here until she recovered. I turned away, only to jump nearly out of my skin in surprise.

"Might I assist you in some way, my lady? Your lovely friend seems to have, um..." He looked a bit uneasy as he peeked at her.

I swooped into another curtsy. "That is not necessary, your Highness," I told the prince. "She will be fine in a moment. I'm certain she will be. There were too many people in there for her," I lied half-heartedly.

"I assume you will tell me the true answer later, then," he said smoothly, still looking down at Emi, who was now snoring slightly. She'd fallen asleep, it seemed.

"Er. Yes, your Highness," I said, taken aback. My lying was not normally so easily seen through. Then again, I reasoned, I wasn't normally standing quite close to a prince. Less than two feet from a prince, actually. I took the moment, Emi now secured, to appreciate his closeness, looking up at his face. He was quite tall.

"Emi-Emeraude will be fine in a moment," I stammered.

"Quite a name," he murmured. "Yours...yours...Ella?" Again, he surprised me.

"You remembered my name?" I asked quietly. Then I tacked on, "Your Highness?" I gulped as unnoticeably as was possible with his nearness.

He turned to me suddenly. "My name is Tusken," he said, "not 'your Highness.'"

"Leila," I corrected him meekly. "It is Leila. Not Ella. It was close though, I will give you that." He surprised me – again – when he smiled. It took me a moment to wipe the ridiculously happy expression off my face.

"Well, Leila then. I wasn't far off," he agreed. His smile blended into a slightly larger one. I couldn't help but to return it. When I felt I was done with gazing into his (extremely pretty) eyes, I tore myself away from them to look out over the gardens, before returning my gaze to Emi. I didn't think she could really handle much more exposure to that rich roach that had hit her. I wanted to get her to Cookie, who would watch her for me.

I turned to the prince – Tusken – and asked quietly, "Could someone take Em-Emi back to her quarters? I don't think she'll wake soon," I giggled when her snoring became slightly more pronounced.

"Easily," Tusken said amiably. "Where are you staying?"

"Well, we are- that is to say -" My blush grew darker by the minute.

"The servants' quarters, then?" He asked gently. I nodded mutely.

"Yes. There," I admitted, ashamed.

"You are just the same as all others here tonight. It is nothing to be shamed for, right now."

"Right now," I scoffed. Then I remembered that this was the prince.

"It's not," he said quietly, touching the outside of my elbow, slightly awkwardly, and going to get a guard to take Emi back to Cookie. I touched my elbow in response, wondering why a part of my body felt as though it sparkled with warmth. Sparkled. Yes. It was the oddest feeling, like I wasn't actually there – like this was a dream I was watching.

A guard came and picked Emi up gently. I smiled a thanks, sending Emi a mental good-night. She'd been in the prince's (Tusken's) presence, and that was all she had wanted. I was glad. As nobody else was on the balcony, I leaned into it, pressing my cheek into the cool marble.

"Is that really very comfortable? I've never thought so," came the – Tusken's amiable remark from behind me. He had a talent at sneaking up on a girl. I turned, my hand to my throat.

"I hope this isn't becoming a habit, your High- er, Tusken," I said, trying to calm my breathing. It was so odd not giving him some sort of title. I'd been taught that my whole life.

"It's a gift," he said, facing me and offering his hand. I could not help but tense at this.

"Are you – asking me to dance?" Laughter bubbled in my throat and affected my voice. I took his hand.

"Well, it worked," he said sheepishly. The music oozed out of the ballroom, so that we could hear it clearly, ringing in the night air. Then I remembered a very important fact.

"I do not know how to dance well," I warned him. He just laughed in response. I let out a sharp intake of breath at the sound.

"It's very easy. This is a waltz," he said, leading me gently. It was a somewhat simple dance – one just moved in little boxes with one's partner. I found myself looking down at where my feet were located within my dress, trying to make them work the way they were supposed to.

"I'm hopeless," I laughed a moment later.

"No. You're a natural compared to the girls I had to dance with in class," he insisted. We laughed again, and I could not help but think of the warmth of his hand in mine, his eyes trained on mine. We were so close that I could hear his heart racing as fast as mine. Before I knew what I was saying, it slipped out of my mouth.

"I do not believe in this," I said matter-of-factly I promptly shut my mouth forcefully.

"In what?" That gentle tone marked his voice again. I could not resist.

"Love at first sight," I whispered. The smile that lit his face was sudden and violent in its emotion. "Well, you know what I mean. I don't believe in it. Not even now."

"Technically, it's not," he said casually. "We met before."

(I quietly thought, Please don't say we've met once upon a dream.)

"The kitchen," he said. "You were the one on the end. I remembered you, because you looked so serious about something."

"Pies," I confessed.

"They're very serious things," he agreed, "Pies."

"I'm the pastry chef. I make all of your croissants and such," I said in a hushed tone, with a mischevious smile.

"That's why I like them so much then."

"Obviously not. You didn't know my face before then. You probably thought some talented, out-of-his-mind man made them."

"It never actually crossed my mind," he said, sounding slightly embarrassed.

"It's just what I do," I said. "That's how all of us are. Everyone is relatively content."

We stopped dancing suddenly, because the music disappeared. I'd been so wrapped up that I hadn't noticed how far we'd strayed from the ballroom. We were not somewhere in the gardens.

Tusken seemed to have noticed at the same time I did. "Well, that was odd," he said, "but I don't think I really mind."

"Why not, pray tell?" I asked.

"We don't need music or anything, do we?"

"For what?"

"You just want to hear me say it," he said, looking at me, a triumphant expression crossing his features. He leaned closer to me.

"Say what?" I leaned in a bit as well. It was getting a bit cold.

"That I might think I love you more than any other lady I've met," he said, smiling.

"And what other ladies have you loved?"

"None but you," he proclaimed, snatching my face with his hands. I was surprised, again, at how large they were in comparison to mine. I felt a bit feeble, and not just because he had me trapped with his warm gaze and hands. I felt like his eyes froze me to the spot, as he leaned forward and kissed me.

It was my first kiss, but I would have to say that if there were others, this would still have been the best. However, something very important crossed my mind just as I was really beginning to enjoy the feeling.

"Tusken," I said against his lips. "You know that this can't continue after tonight?"

He pulled away a bit, and said, "You know this ball's for?"

"Well, yes, all the ladies in the land, and all, but-"

"I can marry anyone I choose," he said gently. "Including you. Especially you."

Just as our lips met again, I heard a clock, somewhere, chime five times.

It was five in the morning. The dawn was beginning to lift in the skies. It was time for me to be making breakfast.

"Oh, no," I said. Emi didn't know. Emi still thought that she had the prince, and I'd stolen him from her. She would be heartbroken. I'd taken everything away from her, with my own stupidity.

"I must go," I said, rushing away. I think I might have lost a shoe on the early morning dew, when I slid down to the ground, but I hopped up again, hearing Tusken behind me. Tears filled my eyes.

I could only hope Emi would forgive me.

* * *

So.

What do you think?

(The "Once Upon A Dream" reference belongs to Disney, not me.)

And yes, their love WAS supposed to happen in an instant. Some things are complicated and take time.  
This wasn't one of them. :D


	6. Silence

Thank you lovely reviewers! Cookies to all!

Now, back to the story. . .

* * *

I ran back up the balcony, not quite sure of where I was supposed to go – this was not my regular part of the palace, and it had been a long, intricate pathway to get into the ballroom. My best bet was to go back through the gardens and go around until I found the kitchen garden. I turned abruptly back around, not expecting to see his Highness right behind me.

"You have a habit of doing that, you know," I mumbled to him as I skirted around him and flew down the stairs, trying so hard not to hear his beckoning me back. I just hoped that he'd given up on chasing me.

I did not look back as I ran through the elegant, labyrinthine First Garden that I had heard so much about, but never actually been in. As I ran farther through it, I began to recognize that I was getting a bit confused. Had I already taken this path on this side of that fountain? I managed to find my way out into the Common Gardens without too much of a hassle, though. A tiny wooden door in a hedge signified the entrance to my own world again – its rough appearance was aided by the scents of rosemary, peppermint, and so many other familiar scents. I stopped in front of it, brushed my ball gown back again, and sniffed as I opened the door. No person could know that I was crying. Last night was supposed to have been blissful for me – and while it was, I could not tell exactly why it had been so blissful. That seemed the best plan of action. My frazzled nerves settled when I thought through my plan, the one for Emi's sake. I could not disappoint her.

My mind made, I kept my head down from the curious onlookers on their knees in the dirt, looking at the escaped courtier. I laughed mentally at that. I walked close to the hedges, my hair tangling in one of them when I walked too close. I reached the kitchen door and shoved it open, jiggling it slightly up and down to get it to open without the loud squeak. My still slippered feet (I found the other one stuck in mud where we must have been – oh, Tusken, please forgive me) stepped quietly onto the putty-colored tiled floors, waiting for the verdict.

I opened one eye.

Everyone was where they were supposed to be, in their everyday wear, no person watching me. I raised my head slightly higher. Somehow, I had expected everyone to be able to look at me and just know – _She's the one who thinks she can catch the prince, she's the one, in that gown. _No, I had told them in my mind. Please don't judge me. The prince came up to me first!

I looked for Emi's dark head, and spotted it bobbling near my corner. I walked slowly over, nearly being barreled over by two kitchen maids gossiping. They looked at me slightly, and I knew that we had been seen. Oh, no. Please, Emi, I begged her, please say you haven't heard.

She heard my footsteps, but did not turn around from where she was piling some plates on a tray.

"The prince, Leila?" She asked in a pleading voice. "The prince?"

I hung my head down farther. "I'm sorry," I whispered. I knew that no matter how many times I explained it to her, she would not be able to understand. All she would see was that I had gone off gallivanting with her future husband, and that I was not supposed to. I wished so much that I could take it all back, everything, just reverse this last night until Cookie was still putting flowers in Emi's hair, the two giggling about how the prince would not be able to resist her charms, her beauty, her grace, while I looked on.

He had chosen wrong, and I had let him.

"I am so sorry, Emi," I repeated, raising my eyes to try to see her face through the dark curtain of her hair. It blurred, and I could see the edge of her face, coated in tears.

"My name is Emeraude," she said simply, and turned on her heel, and left.

I stood, astonished, for a moment, before pulling my hair back into a kerchief and setting to work.

It took me two cakes to formulate my plans down to a science. As I finished icing the last one, I left it on the counter, on a simple plate, and turned before anyone else could see me, heading quietly down the hallway. I felt like a ghost – the ball gown and everyone's gazes slipping right through me. If it had been Emi, there would have been great celebration, even from me. It was still very apparent on my mind that I loved Tusken, the prince, and he might have loved me back. It was not Emi, and I could not change that, but perhaps I could still make things right.

First I would have to change out of the ball gown. Sorrowfully I placed it down, replacing it with my usual light, rough cotton dress and apron. I looked the part of a kitchen girl now. I must have nearly given Lester a heart attack, working in that dress – though if I did, I certainly did not hear of it. I raised my hand to my face, feeling the tears starting afresh.

I heard the door creak open just as I was curling into a tight ball on my floor. "Leila-girl?"

Cookie saw me and plopped right down beside me, putting her arms around me. "Now don't you let anyone tell you nothing about how these things're supposed to be done. It's never been done, so they can't just have a field day and say how prissy you're being. You're not." I just sat there, absorbing this.

"It's because I'm not Emi," I said.

"Leila-girl, you're overthinkin' this. It's not because you're not somebody, it's b'cause they aren't you." She rubbed my arm before standing back up. "'N not everybody is so mad with you. I'm happy that the prince picked you rather than all of those other horrible girls. He's got taste," she added. Her attempts did work a bit, though. I sat up against the wall as she closed the door with a quiet scrape of wood against cement walls.

After a few more moments of feeling sorry for myself, I stood up and brushed myself off, determined to face the kitchens again.

I made a few more pies in silence, working briskly, before I let the other girls' gossip get to me. I threw a darting glare at one who was whispering to the other, wondering what I'd done to get the prince to fall for me, just a plain servant. I sniffed and held my dignity, turning back to the oven.

So it went for the next two days, until the prince came back and tried to mess it all up again.

He was holding an assembly for all of the servants who attended the ball, and I knew he was just looking for me and knew that this would be the only way he'd find me. I pulled my thick hair back into a braid and hoped that he didn't see me, squirming in the back, a basket in my hands. Emi stood near the front, her arms crossed over her chest, a smile playing across her features.

After everyone had quieted, he announced that he would not call me forward, but instead would like to announce that his intentions had not changed, and that he intended to marry me. I closed my eyes in an attempt to shut out all the piercing glances I felt boring into me. He also said that he would like to see me later, after all of the others had left. He announced a good day.

I narrowed my eyes as I waited for all the others to leave, avoiding Emi's own recently-hardened eyes. I sauntered forward, keeping my eyes low to the ground. When I was close enough to reach out and touch him, I let my words flow, right there, in the courtyard just out of the kitchen's reach.

"You were a mistake," I told him, looking up into his eyes, trying to decipher if he believed me. "One I regret." I twisted the basket's handles with my fingers and closed my eyes for a moment, to try to believe that he didn't look so saddened at my words. I hunched my shoulders in, before straightening them again.

"Now can we please go back to our own, separate lives? I have some things to take care of." I looked past his shoulder, toward the river that ran close to the palace, to the berry bushes where I could avoid people's stares. I walked forward before I let him speak a word to me, sure that my resolution would crumble if he said anything. The berries stained my hands blue, but that was a small price to pay for feeling no stares.

Though I did feel that I might have made the biggest mistake of my young life.

My basket was heavy as I tried to lug it back to my corner. I'd made it ten feet before I had to put it back down and spill some of the berries over the edges. I let out a small frustrated noise, before bending over. Someone was already doing my job for me, small hands in a light olive tone. Emi stood with the proffered berries in her apron, getting small stains from the berries all over them.

"I heard what you said," she started. I only looked at her. "I want to thank you." She gently rolled all of the berries back into the basket. I only continued to look at her, dazed, for a moment.

"You heard me?"

"Yes."

"Good," I said, with a hesitant smile, which she returned with a smile that, though small, still brought out little beams of light from the sky.

"You gave up the prince for me?" Her eyes were softer now, though a bit more guarded than I'd ever seen them.

"I did," I said, knowing not how else to answer. Her hands grabbed one side of the large basket and mine the other, and we made our way back toward the kitchen.

"The prince is yours," I said after a moment had passed of silent breathing.

She smiled again. "I'm not so sure," she replied. "He seems somewhat taken with you." The lights in her eyes diminished.

"That can easily be amended. He'd be a fool not to love you," I said, truth ringing through my tone. He was a fool to love me, though. I'd just have to wisen him up, it seemed – though my heart wished not for that. My common sense knew that Emi would prevail. The smile on her face was wan, which was unusual. It made sense for her not to believe my claims, now, I supposed. I shut my mouth.

We walked back to the kitchen, basket in all four hands, quiet.

--

Wow. This story is delving so much deeper than I'd intended it to. Not that I'm complaining. ;-)

Review, if you please.


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